Heartless: The Life of Thief King Bakura
by LawliPop
Summary: Was the terrifying King of Thieves really so heartless? We all know Atemu's story... but what of Bakura's?
1. Night of Demise

_A/N: I have had this idea forever. I've always been curious as to what happened to poor Bakura after he watched his villagers be slaughtered right before his eyes. Neither the anime or manga goes into much detail about it. So I've decided to fill in the gaps myself with this here fanfiction. I'd like to thank my friend from Gaia online (who should know who she is, if she ever reads this) for giving me the motivation to actually write and post this... and for also convincing me to add a certain romance to the fic later on. Okay. I've chatted enough. Please enjoy! _

_Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!

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**_Heartless: The Life of Thief King Bakura_**

_Chapter One: Night of Demise

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It was strangely darker than usual, this Egyptian night. The absence of the moon was responsible for that. But even without the moon, the Egyptians counted on the stars to bring natural light when Ra was no longer viewable. However, and another odd fact, there were no stars. It was as if the sky had been wiped clean, and only the measureless black void remained. An eerily soft breeze swept through the desert lands, rustling the branches of the several trees which dotted the predominantly barren landscape. Other than these two examples of idiosyncrasy, all else seemed to be normal.

"Diaboundo! Attack God! ...**_Resenhado_**!"

The biting command broke the tranquility of the night, and the gentle breeze picked up, morphing into a strong gust. Out of nowhere, it seemed, a large orb of dark light appeared in the sky, illuminating the night somewhat, and came charging towards the Earth, aimed towards the intended target – a large blood-red creature which resembled a dragon that tried to soar out of the way of the attack.

Another, deeper voice broke through. "There! Osiris, go! **_Thunder Force Interception_**!"

The dragon stopped in its tracks and turned to face the orb of light which was steadily drawing nearer and nearer. Opening its massive jaws, the beast released a strong golden blast of light which shot through the darkness. The golden attack looked as if it could easily overpower the orb of darkness, and it probably would have, had the dragon not suddenly jerked its head to the side as if in pain, veering the assault off course.

"Osiris!" the deep voice cried.

The unseen monster's attack hit its target, successfully cutting Osiris in half. Osiris let out an agonized wail before its enormous body convulsed. A large explosion followed shortly afterwards, and the God of the Sky was no more.

Vicious laughter filled the air.

"Your God is no more, Pharaoh!"

"Bakura, you monster!" several angered voices shouted at the same time.

The King of Thieves cackled at the insults and threats being tossed his way, glaring down at the injured Pharaoh and Priests. He kicked his horse's side and the animal neighed, rearing its front legs.

"S-Seth!" the Pharaoh cried, his voice pained, as he turned his head in the direction of his most loyal advisor. The brown-haired royal met the king's gaze. "I leave it to you."

Seth nodded curtly in understanding before calling out his own Ka monster. "Dios, kill Diaboundo now – **_Aura Sword_**!"

The Priest's Ka threw its gigantic sword into the night, piercing something hidden in the dark sky. Seth smirked, curling his fingers into a tight fist as he saw that the assault was a successful one.

"A direct hit," Another of the Priests declared.

Bakura laughed, drawing in the attention of the Pharaoh and his royal court. "Are you blind?" he asked them all, grinning wildly. "Take a better look."

The royals did as instructed, turning their gazes to the sky. All of their eyes widened in shock as a small winged creature appeared, Dios' sword protruding from its midsection. In an instant, the creature was destroyed with a screech of dismay, and Dios' weapon flew back into the hands of its master.

"Another Ka..?" Seth breathed, unable to believe what he had just witnessed. "That's impossible!"

"It's pointless to keep attacking me. Your worthless Ka monsters are no match against the combined power of my Diaboundo and the Sennen Ring."

The Pharaoh remained on his horse, though he swayed every so often, looking as if he were about ready to collapse.

"Please, Pharaoh," Bakura sneered, "you are far too _weak_ for this. Give up, and hand me the Sennen Puzzle."

Before the thief could even start a new sentence, the Pharaoh fell from his horse, landing roughly on the ground. Bakura grinned. He wouldn't even have to issue a final attack from Diaboundo, for it seemed as if the Pharaoh was as good as dead already. Delighted, he threw his head back and laughed heartily. This was _perfect_. The Pharaoh was going to die. Bakura's revenge would be complete with the death of Akhenamkhanen's only son.

What happened next shocked everyone into silence, but it mostly amazed Bakura, since the thief was the only one who actually _saw_ what happened; the Pharaoh's companions from the modern era literally materialized by the fallen ruler's side, lifting the wounded man up to a sitting position. The next occurrence made Bakura's blood boil. The Pharaoh's former host lifted the Pharaoh's hand and transferred his own energy into the king's body.

"How... h-how could those brats appear in the Memory World?" Bakura asked himself, not being able to conjure up a logical explanation for the unreasonable happening. He glanced down as he noticed the ruler of Egypt struggle back to his feet. "No..."

"Bakura," The Pharaoh yelled accusingly, "you have disgraced the Egyptian Gods, and for that you must pay." He raised his hand towards the heavens. "Wing Dragon of Ra, shatter the darkness!"

Acting upon the Pharaoh's will, a blinding raycovered the sky, pushing away the darkness that had covered the land. Bakura gasped, discovering that hisSpirit was now plainly viewable to any possible assailants.

The Priests exchanged excited words, each of them pointing to the sky and commenting on the strange light that had the power to pierce through darkness.

"...The light that tears the clouds and shatters darkness... This is the third God, the God of the Sun – Ra!"

Bakura's breath caught in his throat as the light in the sky began to take the shape of an animal – a giant bird, to be precise. _'God of the Sun... This is impossible. The Pharaoh's Ba should have run out after Osiris was destroyed. How can he have the strength to summon Ra?'_

Grey-blue eyes wandered towards the ground, locking on the small form of the Pharaoh's former host.

'_It is because of the vessel... I wasn't imagining it; the little one actually transferred his own power into the Pharaoh!'_

Bakura growled, clenching and unclenching his fists as the Priests began to speak again, stating the obvious fact the Diaboundo had no place to hide now that the sanctuary of darkness had been eradicated.

'_Damn them all...'_ The white-haired thief thought, eyes brightening as a new thought struck him.

"It doesn't matter anyway," he said quietly, and then looked up, grinning madly. "It doesn't matter anyway," the words were repeated much louder, so his opponents could hear them. The thief chuckled. "The power of your last God has already been absorbed by Diaboundo." He gave it a moment for the information to sink in before lifting his arm in his Ka's direction. "Diaboundo, **_Thunder Force_**!"

The royals were in shock as they witnessed their enemy's Spirit begin the attack which used to belong only to the Sky Dragon Osiris. How was it possible that Diaboundo had gained this ability?

Seth moved forward. "Dios," he called out to his Ka, "quickly now. I place all of my Ba in your Aura Sword. Change the direction of Diaboundo's attack."

Dios did as was commanded; releasing a stream of energy from his might blade, sending the beam to intercept the Thunder Force.

Seth turned back to the Pharaoh. "Now is your chance. Use the Sun God Ra to kill him for good."

The Pharaoh nodded his head, his lips stretching into a deep frown. "One turn kill. God of Ra, transform into Phoenix and burn through these shadows!"

The deity's body morphed once again, this time becoming a large, flaming phoenix bird. It cried out and charged, hitting Diaboundo directly since the Thunder Force attack had been deterred. Diaboundo was instantly ensnared in the flames surrounding Ra, and was powerless to stop the assault.

Bakura gripped his side and shuddered in pain, coughing up blood before he too was engulfed with flames – the price of being directly bonded with his Ka. He was thrown from his horse, landing roughly on the stone ground as the fire disappeared as quickly as it had come. His body twitched every so often. All he could feel was the burns that now adorned his body, which made their presence agonizingly known to the thief with each involuntary spasm of his limbs.

His throbbing ears could barely make out the sound of the cheers coming from the Pharaoh's modern-age companions. Everything was just a blur... The world around him was turning black and fuzzy. He could no longer see. Only darkness... just as it had been... on that day... so long ago...

'_H-how can it end this way...?'_ the thought swam through Bakura's hazy mind, along with several others. _'I was so close... so close to beating him... to getting my revenge...'_ A trickle of blood ran down his lower lip as Bakura groaned. _'My family... my villagers...'_

Through the darkness in his mind, one image was able to shine through clearly. The smiling face Bakura had once loved and cherished so much...

'_...Malik.'_

Just remembering the name caused the thief's anger to rise once again. He took in a deep breath, and then another, and another, until his lungs could continue the rhythmic pattern without him having to force them to.

'_I cannot give up... I refuse to... I made a promise to him.'_

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_A/N: The real story of Bakura's past will begin in the next chapter. Thanks for reading!_


	2. The Devil's Child

**_Heartless: The Life of Thief King Bakura_**

_Chapter Two: The Devil's Child_

The tranquility of the Egyptian night was broken by the sound of a woman screaming. The pained cries echoed throughout the small mud-brick home in which the woman dwelled, and no doubt they rang throughout the entire village of Kuru Eruna.

Outside of the small home, a middle-aged man waited impatiently, striding nervously back and forth in front of the small entryway, which was covered merely with a flimsy piece of fabric so that he could not see what was happening inside. Of course, the man knew what was going on just beyond the clay wall and piece of fabric that separated him from the woman inside; his wife was in labor, and she had been for several long hours now.

Giving an aggravated sigh, the man ran his fingers through his thick black hair, and his brown eyes traveled to the entryway of his home. He could hear his wife moaning, and from the strain of her voice he could tell that the infant was closer to arriving than it had been several seconds earlier. Most likely only a few minutes more until he heard the scream of a new life.

Just as the man expected, after several more pants and cries of pain from his wife, the man heard a sound that he hadn't heard in the village for at least a year – the sound of a child being born. Infant squeals filled the air, and, the man noticed with some unease, all other noises seemed to come to a halt. No other noises could be detected, other than the child's sobs, which were steadily growing louder and louder. The dark-haired man raised a curious eyebrow, looking in both directions and then back at his home.

The flap of cloth that covered the entryway was suddenly pushed aside to reveal a very tired, and very frightened, elderly woman.

"It is a demon!" the woman declared, her voice shrill as she made to depart the home. The man quickly jumped in her path, grabbing the woman's bony shoulders. She looked up at him; her dark eyes still glistened with anxiety. The man looked at her expectantly and she sighed, dropping her voice to a whisper as she spoke next.

"Bakari, it is like nothing I have seen before."

"What is?"

"The wretch that your wife has given birth to – your son. A monstrous thing... I've never seen a child quite so ugly. I meant what I said when I came out; this newborn is a demon, and you'll see why if you go in and lay your own eyes on him. Spawn of the God of Death, more so than of a man and a woman, it appears."

Bakari's eyes narrowed slightly and his gaze darted once again to his home. "What shall I do?"

"I would not suggest keeping the child," the elderly woman said, shaking her head negatively. "If the other villagers see the monster, they will certainly view your family as cursed, and will exile you from the village."

"But my family has lived in this village for generations!" Bakari argued. "Surely they would not exile us."

The woman sighed. "Believe what you like. I merely speak what I know is the truth, and the truth is that the child is bad luck. If he remains in this village, the Gods will surely not look upon us in favor. Terrible things will happen if the child stays alive. The only sensible thing for you to do is drown him."

"Drown my _son_?" Bakari asked in disbelief.

"It will be an easy task, you'll see. Once you lay your eyes on the little monster, it will be easy for you." The woman stepped around Bakari, continuing down the dirt pathway towards the center of the village. "I will return tomorrow to check on your wife. The child better be dead by morning, or you will see just how serious about exile the villagers of Kuru Eruna are."

Bakari said nothing, merely watching in shock as the woman disappeared down the path. He stared straight ahead of himself for a long while before turning around. Hesitantly, he parted the fabric and entered the house, bracing himself for what he might find.

His wife was lying atop a straw mat in the center of the small room, her breathing still labored. Her cream-colored dress was plastered to her dark skin, a think layer of sweat covering her, and her light brown hair was matted. In her arms, was a bundle of white cloth which would stir every few moments and release a small cry.

Cautiously Bakari approached the mat, kneeling down beside it once he reached the edge. His wife turned her head minutely to the side, staring up at him with a tired smile on her face.

"Rebekah," he said to the woman, who raised her eyes slowly.

"I've birthed you... a son," she whispered.

Bakari's eyes narrowed slightly. "So I've heard."

He reached a hand out to the bundle, slowly taking it into his arms and just staring for several moments. He was unsure if he wanted to look upon the child after hearing the old woman's words earlier. Was the newborn truly so hideous? Anticipation eating at him, he pulled the cloth away from the baby's face, catching a first glimpse of his new son. Bakari almost dropped the child in shock and the baby, feeling insecure in the man's arms, let out a piercing wail.

Really, the child wasn't as bad as the woman claimed he was. His skin was rich and sunk-kissed, the same as everyone else's skin in Egypt, and he had all ten fingers and toes. He had a small, round face with two pudgy cheeks, think lips that were a shade paler than his skin, one button-like nose, all normal and identical to any other newborn in Kuru Eruna.

Then came the child's eyes; large and round and innocent, but the color of storm clouds. Bakari had never seen a person with grey eyes in his life – the normal eye shade was brown, sometimes blue – and so it was understandable why the child's eyes startled him. If the boy's eyes weren't strange enough, his hair was certainly an oddity. There was a lot of hair atop the newborn's head, more than the usual amount. The hair was still wet, and stained a slight crimson thanks to the blood that hadn't yet been cleaned from his body since his birth. However, the long tresses which weren't tinted with blood were silky in texture, and the unforgettable color of moonlight.

"White hair, grey eyes... the old woman was right. He is a demon."

Rebekah groaned, her head turning to the side, away from him.

"He is your son," she whispered slowly.

Bakari glared down at the baby in his arms, which cooed innocently. "He shames my family with his unnatural appearance," he said, lips curling in disgust. "I do not want him."

"He is your son," his wife repeated, voice growing fainter.

"I will not raise him."

Rebekah was silent for a while, and for a moment Bakari thought she had fallen asleep from the exhaustion of giving birth. Then she opened her mouth once more, to plea one final time.

"Please... do not kill him. He is my son too, and I love him already." Her eyes slipped closed. "... I will raise him."

Bakari sighed, tearing his gaze away from his wife and focusing on the bundle he held. The baby squirmed, as if trying to break away from his father's hold. The child truly was disgusting in appearance, and the man hadn't the slightest idea as to how his wife could ever care for such a little monster, or want to keep the creature alive.

"He would be better off dead."

"I want him to live."

Shaking his head, Bakari gave in to his wife's wishes and placed the baby next to his mother.

"Keep him indoors at all times," Bakari instructed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "I do not want him ever leaving this house. No one is to know he exists save for the two of us. I will inform the villagers that he passed after his birth. Tomorrow, when your mother returns, you will hide the demon from her, for she is expecting him to be dead."

The woman nodded shakily, taking her baby gently into her arms and holding him close to her bosom. Seeing that she had agreed without argument, Bakari left the home, saying nothing more. The child cooed softly, snuggling against his mother, who smiled fondly down at him.

"Your life will never be easy," she predicted, kissing her son's forehead tenderly. "But I will always be there to protect you, my son... Bakura..."

_**- - - - - Seven Years Later - - - - -**_

Bakura sighed, staring blankly out of the small box-shaped window. The sun shone merrily outside, and in the dirt streets played several young children – two boys and one girl. Dull grey eyes studied each other the children, remaining on the little girl for the longest amount of time.

It wasn't the first time he had seen the girl before; he often spotted her trotting loyally behind the two older-looking boys. She was pretty, far prettier than all the other girls in the village. Her hair was brown, but lustrous like silk – Bakura always wondered if the locks would feel like silk if he ever touched her. The girl's eyes were wide and innocent, and clear blue like the afternoon sky.

Bakura watched her every day, always wishing he could go out and join her and her friends as they played. Sometimes he wished that she knew he was there, watching over her protectively – that he'd seen the day she'd fallen and scraped her knees, and how he'd so sorely wanted to run out and help her back on her feet. But he knew as long as his mother and father forbade it, he would never be allowed to do any of that; he'd never get the chance to talk with her, or play with her like the other boys did.

As the days went by, Bakura grew restless just sitting inside the house. He'd taken up carving statues of Egyptian deities – a task his father was skilled in, which Bakura had tried to learn as well. Unfortunately he wasn't as talented as his father when it came to the art. But for being so young he did fairly well. His favorite thing to carve was a creature that was half man and half snake, a being that he made up on his own that later became almost a friend to him; he would spend hours with this particular carving, acting out battle scenes against the other sculptures.

"_Diaboundo,"_ he'd said one day, holding the carving up victoriously as his mother asked what he was playing with. _"My only friend – Diaboundo."_

Rebekah had merely chuckled under her breath and left her son with his toys.

Later that evening, Bakura sat with his mother and father at the low wooden table, picking silently at his food.

"_Ibn,_" Rebekah said, staring worriedly at her fair-haired son. "Is something wrong? You're usually such a healthy eater."

Bakura blinked in acknowledgement, but didn't say anything. Across from him, Bakari grunted.

"You were not raised to be disrespectful," Bakari snapped, glaring pointedly at his child, who merely frowned at the scolding and apologized softly. "Your mother works hard all day to put that food in front of you, you ungrateful wretch. Eat."

The child nodded slowly and did as told, beginning to consume the food at a snail's pace. After several minutes, he looked back over at his parents quizzically.

"Father, when can I choose a wife?"

"You do not choose your own wife. Your mother and I will pick one for you," was the curt reply.

Bakura leaned forward, placing his head in the palm of his hand. "But Father," he said again, "How does that work? Who will you choose? And when?"

Bakari snorted and dropped the slice of bread he had been about to put in his mouth. "I hardly wish for you to carry on my family name. It would be a curse if I allowed a girl to marry _you_."

"I want to marry Téana," the white-haired boy said, smiling and disregarding his father's words. "Will you let me marry Téana, Father?"

Rebekah, noticing the agitation on her husband's face, quickly answered before Bakari was given a chance to.

"I think you are still too young to be asking these questions, _Ibn_," she said, petting her son's hair affectionately. "When the time is right, your father will choose someone he thinks is worthy of bringing into the family. Now enough talk of this. Why don't you show father the carvings you've made? I don't think he's seen them yet."

Bakura sighed and hung his head, not daring to go against the word of his mother, and stood up, going to fetch one of his carvings.

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The next morning found young Bakura staring listlessly out of the small window, gazing at the small group of children playing just down the road. After several moments of watching silently, he turned away from the window and shyly approached Rebekah, who was folding newly washed-and-dried clothes.

"Mother," he began softly, catching her attention with the word. "Mother, can I go outside today?"

Rebekah paused for a second, and then sighed. It was the same question he asked every day. To the routine question, she gave her routine answer, "You know you may not," and continued on with her chore.

"But why?" Bakura asked, lowering himself down onto his knees so that he sat beside his parent. "Why must I stay inside all the time?" When Rebekah only exhaled tiredly in response, he persisted. "The other boys are allowed outside. I see them. I know you told me not to go near the window, but I'm sorry... I had to look. And, Mother, I saw the other boys – I see them every day – and they are all outside. I want to go out too!"

Rebekah finished the last of the clothing and, after placing them neatly into a basket, she stood up. "Bakura, enough of this. You know your father's rules."

The white-haired child followed his mother as she entered the next room of the small home. Timidly, he questioned her once more. "...Are you ashamed of me, Mother?"

The Egyptian woman nearly lost grip of the basket in her arms. She whirled around, staring down at the boy with a shocked expression on her face. Bakura's face – which seemed to grow paler with each day he was denied the warmth of the sun – was as serious and depressed as ever.

"Bakura! How can you say such a thing?"

The boy looked down at his feet, as if in apology. "Father says I am a disgrace... a curse on Father's family. Is that what you think too, Mother? Am I a curse?"

Gray-blue eyes glanced back up, finding his mother's eyes. Rebekah could see all of the loneliness in the world hidden within those large, innocent orbs, and it made her heart break. This time she couldn't keep hold of the basket, and it slipped from underneath her fingers, landing on the ground and tipping over. Several of the clean white linens spilled out and landed on the dirt floor.

"Oh, Bakura," she cried, wrapping her arms around her son's thin frame. "I could never think of you that way. You are such a special boy..."

"I'm a freak," Bakura whispered, turning his head to the side. "That is why Father can't look at me in the eye. That's why he doesn't let me go anywhere... why he tells everyone he has no son."

"You are not a freak. You are just... different," she admitted. "But I love you all the same."

"You are the only one."

Rebekah stared at her son, brows furrowing slightly at the words. She couldn't believe to hear such a thing coming from the usually-content young boy. She knew that her child was unhappy having to stay indoors all the time thanks to the order of his father, but to think that his parents were ashamed of him?

"Your Father loves you too, Bakura. He loves you very much, even if he does not show it. I promise." The Egyptian woman placed a tender kiss to the boy's dirty forehead. "And someday, you will find a wife who loves you even more than we do. You'll see."

For the first time in his short life, Bakura felt a small spark of hope ignite within him at his mother's kind words.

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Translation:

_Ibn:_ Arabic for 'son'. Sadly, I do not know Egyptian, so I had to go with the next best thing. If anyone does know the Egyptian word for 'son', please tell me in a review and I will go and change it.


	3. Taste of Companionship

_A/N: Ah, the update is two days later than I expected it to be. Sorry. The World Cup set me back a few days. (I'm still celebrating Italy's victory!) But, I hope this chapter makes up for the wait! _

_Chapter **Warning**: Um... child abuse. _

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**_Heartless: The Life of Thief King Bakura_**

_Chapter Three: Taste of Companionship_

The next morning, before the sun had even risen all the way, Rebekah and Bakari had left the quaint mud-brick home to report in the center of town along with every other citizen of Kuru Eruna. Bakura was the only one not required to be present, due to the fact that no one other than his parents knew that he even existed. The fair-haired boy stayed inside of his house, taking extra care to make sure he was unnoticed by any guards who might be patrolling the area.

The reason for this gathering was still unclear to the young boy. All he had overheard from the conversation between his mother and father were several minute details; Bakari had informed his wife that a group of soldiers from the Pharaoh's palace had arrived from the palace early in the morning and called for a census.

What a census was, Bakura had absolutely no idea, but he was aware of the fact that he would be left out of it, just as he was left out of everything else. By this point, Bakura was so used to being excluded that it had hardly fazed him. Besides, judging by the unpleasant look that his father had been wearing on the way to the census, the child figured he wasn't missing out on anything exciting.

He sat alone in a washbasin that his mother had brought into the room prior to leaving the house. The small tub was filled with water from the nearby river and Bakura's naked body soaked in the warm water, somewhat cramped due to the minimal space that the basin offered. Unlike the other citizens of Kuru Eruna, Bakura was not allowed to bathe down by the river; instead, one of his parents, typically his father but sometimes his mother, would fill up the basin and carry it back to the house, bringing it inside so that even his cleansing would go unnoticed.

Sinking below the water as much as space would allow him to, Bakura kept his nose at surface level so that he would still be able to breathe. He blew several air bubbles out of his mouth to amuse himself, giggling at the noise he could make.

After several minutes of this he became bored, and so decided to actually complete his bath. He did this rather quickly, using a small scrap of material to scrub away at his arms, legs, torso, face, and what little he could reach of his back. His hair he scrubbed with his fingers after holding his breath and dunking his head under the water. By this point, the bathwater was no longer as clear as it had been when he first entered the basin. Bakura stood up and stepped out onto the straw mat, squeezing his long hair, colorless hair out and letting the excess water fall into the tub.

Once his hair was no longer dripping wet and the rest of his body was only damp, Bakura tied a simple loincloth around his waist and then ran from the tub in search of his favorite figurine. There was little else to do while his parents attended the census. With his mother gone, he couldn't even help with the household chores. And so the young boy entertained himself with his toys, setting up another battle scene between his affectionately-named Diaboundo and some of the older carvings.

Bakura didn't know how long he had sat there on the straw mat, talking to himself as he commanded Diaboundo to attack the antagonist in his game, but he was knocked out of his little world by the sound of crying.

Blinking his large eyes several times, Bakura stood up and cautiously made his way to the only window of the house, peering over the ledge and catching sight of what – or who, to be more precise – was making the depressing noise.

A young girl that he recognized to be Téana was curled up into a ball in the dirt road not too far away from Bakura's undersized home, tears streaming from her tightly clenched eyes. There was no one else around her, and from where he stood the white-haired boy couldn't determine what the reason for her tears was. Being the curious child that he was – and since he had no parents around to forbid him from doing so – Bakura quickly made up his mind to go and see what was troubling her so.

Though young, Bakura was not unintelligent. His mother constantly told him that he was just the same as every other boy in the village, but he knew otherwise. Bakura recognized that he was different, and that it was his unusual silver-white hair that made him so. If his hair was darker in coloring, he figured that he wouldn't be such an ignominious son, and that his parents and fellow villagers would accept him.

Knowing all of this, the young boy made a smart decision: he would hide his true appearance, and therefore would not be shunned by Téana.

Before he went outside to console the brunette girl he quickly found one of his Rebekah's wigs, which was made from black wool. Carefully he placed the wig over his head, taking extra caution in making sure that all of his natural hair was properly concealed.

He grabbed his Diaboundo carving, holding it securely between his hands, and silently wished on it to give him strength.

After checking once more to see that the coast was clear, Bakura hesitantly took his first steps away from the mud brick home he had been confined to all his life. Gray-blue eyes widened slightly as he glanced behind him, staring at the dwelling and then falling back on the road in front of him. He started down at the dirt ground with amazement and excitement etched across his face, as if he couldn't believe he had actually wandered away from his house.

He took another step away, and then another, and another, until he finally reached Téana's side. Cautiously he lowered himself onto his knees next to her and after several moments she tilted her head upwards, the brown bangs falling away from her eyes. He could clearly see the pain in her eyes as she stared questioningly at him.

"Why are you crying?" he asked her, his voice laced with concern.

Téana was silent for several seconds, just looking at the boy across from her, and then she slowly revealed to him the cause of her hurting by removing her hands from around her right knee. There was a long cut across her knee – obviously she had merely fallen and scraped herself; it was nothing serious, but that didn't make it any less sore.

Bakura smiled softly at her. "Did you fall down?" When receiving a slight nod in response, he spoke again. "Don't worry, I'll help you."

Gray-blue eyes positively glowed with happiness as Bakura removed the loincloth from around his waist, laying it down in the dirt beside him. He smoothed the light material out and then took the edge between his fingers, tearing off a long strip, which he then proceeded to use as a makeshift bandage for the girl's wound. Because the injury was minimal, it wouldn't bleed a lot; the linen would more than sufficiently keep back any blood, and also keep the wound from getting dirty.

Téana looked down at the sloppy bandage job and then returned her gaze to the young boy, who was tying his loincloth around his waist again; it was several inches shorter now.

"Thank you," she whispered softly.

When she didn't receive a response Téana studied the boy's face, and then her nose scrunched up slightly, her eyes, blue like the sky, narrowing. "Your eyes... they're like rain," she murmured quietly. "Do you live here?" she suddenly in a louder voice so he could actually hear her. "I've never seen you before."

The alabaster-haired boy nibbled thoughtfully on his lower lip, wondering what he could say since he obviously couldn't tell her the truth. If his parents ever found out he left the house, or that someone knew of his existence, they would be furious and he would surely receive a beating – something he did not wish to happen – so he had to keep quiet about his true identity.

"No," he lied. "I live... far away."

"Oh... My name's Téana."

She smiled at him and held out her hand. He stared at the small appendage strangely, not quite certain what to do. Giggling, Téana took hold of his wrists and then stood up, hoisting the other to his feet in the process.

"My name's Téana," she restated, pointing to herself to emphasize the fact.

Bakura blushed and looked away from her shyly. "I'm... B-Bakura," he introduced himself.

"Bakura," Téana tested out the name several times. "That's a weird name," she decided; "but I like it."

The coloring of the boy's cheeks darkened in embarrassment and he idly noticed that she was still gripping his wrists. Swallowing, he glanced back over into her eyes and quietly thanked her. "I like your name, too," he said, earning a bright smile from the young girl. "It's pretty, like you."

She started laughing, and Bakura's face fell. Noticing his crestfallen expression, Téana immediately stopped and shook her head, offering a friendly smile to cheer him up.

"I like you, Bakura. You're not like the other boys here," she explained.

Bakura's gray-blue orbs lit up elatedly at the words. Téana liked him? The boy felt his heart beat faster in his chest at the thought, and right then he decided to ask Téana to marry him. But before he got the chance, a youthful and boyish voice interrupted him.

"Téana! C'mon!"

The brunette turned her head to look over her shoulder, spotting the owner of the voice standing not too far away. Bakura recognized it as one of the boys that the blue-eyed girl always followed around; he had brown eyes and light hair – Bakura wondered if one of his parents was from another land, since he had never seen another individual with blonde hair in Kuru Eruna.

"That's Jouno," said Téana, noticing that her companion was staring at the blonde-haired boy. "He's got hair like sand b'cause his mother's from Greece."

Bakura nodded, his unspoken question answered. He wished he had an explanation for his unnatural hair and eye color like Jouno did. Jouno didn't have to hide inside of his home because of his hair. Jouno probably wasn't considered a curse upon his family just because he looked a little bit different. Bakura found himself very jealous of the blonde-haired boy.

"Bakura?"

The young boy jumped as a dark-skinned hand was waved in front of his face.

"Do you want to play with us?"

Bakura's cloudy eyes widened at the invitation. Téana actually wanted to be around him? She really did like him, then? His heart skipped a beat and Bakura felt so happy for one of the first times in his life. Someone truly wanted him around.

Reality came crashing down around him as he heard older voices in the distance, recognizing one of them as his mother's own voice. If Rebekah was near, it meant that Bakari was not far behind. Bakura didn't want to be caught outside of his home, and if he went to play with Téana he would most certainly be punished.

"I-I can't. I have to leave. But... I-I'll try to see you again sometime," he promised.

She smiled sadly. "Okay then. I'll see you."

Téana turned and began to walk away, but Bakura caught her arm to stop her. She stared at him quizzically as he approached and held out his other hand to her, revealing a small wooden figurine.

"What?" she asked.

"Here." Bakura took one of her hands and placed the carving of Diaboundo into the open palm, closing her fingers around the figure. "I-I made it myself... You can have it, to remember me. In case you don't see me again."

The brunette raised an eyebrow, studying the figurine before crinkling her nose in distaste. "It's very ugly," she told him honestly.

Bakura's cheeks flushed in humiliation. He knew the carving was nothing special, but he had worked hard on it, and it was his favorite one. "I... I'm sorry."

She giggled and cradled the figurine to her chest. "I'll keep it with me anyways. B'cause you gave it to me."

"Téana! Hurry up!" Jouno called out to his friend again.

"I'm coming!" Téana yelled back.

Smiling, she waved to Bakura and ran off in the direction of her friend. Bakura watched her go, wanting desperately to chase after her. Now that he had gotten a taste of what having a friend was like, he didn't want to go back to his life of confinement. But he knew he had no choice. Heaving a sigh, the white-haired youth turned around and begrudgingly made his way back to his house.

* * *

After the census Bakari had gone to only tavern in Kuru Eruna. Though it was still early morning and the man could think of better uses for his money than wasting it on alcohol, getting a reminder that Kuru Eruna (though self-declared as not part of the kingdom of Egypt) was still under the Pharaoh's control always put him in a bad mood. And what better way to nullify a bad mood than drowning it with beer? 

The beer seemed to have the effect that he was hoping for, and several mugs later Bakari had forgotten all about the census that took place earlier that morning. He staggered back to his home, entering the small abode to find his wife pacing back and forth in a fretful manner. It was one of Rebekah's nervous habits, and it quickly got on her husband's nerves.

"What is it?" he asked her, eyes narrowing slightly.

Rebekah looked up, but refused to meet his gaze. She began to toy nervously with the ends of her hair, something she did only when there was something she wished not to tell the man.

Bakari repeated his question, and she gave a small sigh, knowing that it wouldn't be wise for her to disobey her husband's wishes. She gave him the answer he demanded.

"Bakura," she whispered. Her husband raised an eyebrow, which she took as a signal to continue. "... He was not home when I returned from the census," she explained.

Dark eyes widened and Bakari approached his wife, grabbing a fistful of her thick hair. "What? That little... Where is he now?"

Rebekah kept her gaze averted, not wanting to see the anger that was surely etched onto the other's hard face. She hesitated a moment before giving away her son's location. "The other room. He came back several minutes after I arrived."

Growling in frustration, Bakari released his hold on the woman and briskly exited the home, appearing several minutes later with a leather whip in his hands. Rebekah's eyes widened at the sight of the whip.

No... Surely he wouldn't...

But he was.

Bakari stalked into the other room, finding the white-haired boy lying on his stomach asleep. Stepping over to the child, he kicked his son's side sharply. Bakura coughed, his gray eyes blinking open slowly and still clouded with sleep as they lifted to meet the livid orbs of his father.

"_Ab_," he said quietly, moving to stand.

His father stopped him by pressing a foot down on the boy's back, forcing him back into a prone position. Bakura squirmed, trying to get back up, only to have his father increase the weight placed on his back.

"A-_Ab_," he tried again, wondering what was going on.

"Insolent child! Do not speak! How dare you even open your mouth after what you have done?"

Without warning Bakari removed his foot from Bakura's back, replacing it instead with the whip. The seven-year-old cried out in pain at the first lash against his unscarred skin, tears immediately springing to his eyes. There came a second lash and Bakura's body jerked unnaturally.

"Bakari, stop it!" Rebekah cried from next to her husband. "He's just a child!"

"He disobeyed my rules," Bakari seethed, continuing to flay his son. On the ground Bakura was sobbing loudly, releasing a high-pitched squeal of pain each time the whip cracked down upon him. "I'll punish him how my father punished me."

After two more flogs, Bakari was satisfied. He dropped the bloodied whip and exited the room without so much as a glance backwards. Rebekah was left alone to tend to the boy's fresh and still-bleeding wounds. Bakura continued to cry softly, curling his body into a tight ball despite the pain the action caused.

He managed to open one of his eyes, and past the wall of tears he could see his father's retreating back. Silently he wished the man dead.

Bakura never saw his father ever again after that, for come nightfall the world ended.

* * *

Translation:

_Ab: _Arabic for 'Father'. Sadly I do not know Egyptian, so I had to go with the next best thing. If anyone does know the Egyptian word for 'Father', please tell me in a review and I will go and change it.


	4. When the World Ended

_A/N: Most of you already guessed what's going to happen in this chapter. Kuru Eruna massacre time!_

_Warnings: Um... character death(s)?_

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**_Heartless: The Life of Thief King Bakura_**

_Chapter Four: When the World Ended _

The night seemed just as ordinary as any other. After punishing his son for his disobedience, Bakari had left the small home in favor of the tavern once again. Bakura had slowly but surely made his way to the water-filled basin which had yet to be emptied out and removed, soaking in the dirtied water until he could no longer feel the sting of the lacerations on his back.

Afterwards his mother wrapped cloth bandages around his torso to keep the wounds from becoming infected and to also prevent bleeding. He could tell she felt horrible for what Bakari had done by the way she also dressed him in a linen robe so he would stay warm during the night. Bakura had been hesitant to put it on – not wishing to accept an act of kindness that only stemmed forth from pity – but eventually the chill of the night air got to him and he reluctantly slid it over his head, hugging the extra material tightly to himself.

Going to sleep proved to be a difficult task, seeing as every time he tried to move the wounds would painfully make their presence known. Whimpering rather pathetically every so often, Bakura settled with lying on his stomach and pillowing his head in his arms. As long as remained perfectly still the position was bearable.

At some point Rebekah seated herself next to her son and began to run her fingers through his cropped, remarkably white hair. Gray eyes turned to her in silent question, receiving only an empathetic look in response.

He pushed her away with a wide sweep of his hand, glaring fiercely over his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!"

Rebekah's eyes widened at the outburst. Bakura had never been one to raise his voice, even when he was upset at not getting his way; it was odd to hear him yelling.

"Bakura," she said gently, reaching out to him again only to have the same hand slap her aside. Now becoming frustrated as well, she smacked the back of his head. "I never raised you to be disrespectful. If you raise your hand to me again, I'll –"

Bakura glared, seeming furious now, and interrupted her with a suggestion of what she would most likely do.

"You'll tell father so he can whip me again?"

His tone sounded dead, for lack of a better word; he had never spoken in such a voice before, and the eerie calmness of it somewhat frightened Rebekah, who took a retreating step away from her son.

"You know I would never want harm to befall you. You are my son, and I love you and I want to protect you from all that is evil in the world. But you horribly disobeyed your father's rules, and you know the punishment for that."

"Mother, I want to be free! Why should I be punished for wanting to go outside like a normal child?"

"Because you are not a normal child!"

Rebekah immediately regretted the words as soon as they passed her lips. Bakura's dull gray eyes filled with tears and he bowed his head, trying to hide them from his mother. His lips began to tremble as he choked on a sob.

"...Bakura... You're so special."

Rebekah tried to make up for what she said, although she knew her words were most likely falling on deaf ears. "You are too different for this world, too beautiful. But most people would not understand your beauty – they do not wish to see it. But I see it. Bakura, you are so beautiful... so special to me. I love you so much."

_Special._ He didn't want to be that. He wanted to be normal. He wanted to be just like the other children of Kuru Eruna, and he wanted to grow up to be a normal man, and live a normal life, and marry a normal woman. He didn't want to be confined any longer. He wanted freedom.

He hated being special. And if this was beauty, he hated that too.

The room was silent for several minutes. Figuring Bakura wouldn't say anything, Rebekah chose to leave her son to his own thoughts.

Bakura laid his head back down in his arms and cried until he fell asleep.

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"_Neb_ Akunadin!"

A young man dressed in royal garb and armor, mounted upon a white horse, stared expectantly over at one of the soldiers approaching him on foot. The soldier bowed once at a close enough distance and presented to High Priest of Egypt a scroll of papyrus. The dark cobalt eyes of Akunadin skimmed the paper, easily reading the message written down in Hieroglyphics.

"Only seventy?" he asked the soldier, not looking up from the scroll.

The soldier nodded his head. "Yes, there were seventy. But apparently there was a lady in labor, _Neb_, so she could not be present for the counting," he explained. "With her and the child it makes seventy-two."

Akunadin frowned and rolled the scroll up once again. "Not nearly enough," he said to himself. Shaking his head he focused on the soldier. "You are dismissed. Go back to the camp and away my orders for attack."

Bowing, the soldier compliantly headed back in the direction of camp.

The High Priest sighed, placing a hand to his forehead. Seventy-two... not nearly enough to satisfy the minimum written in the Sennen Book of Magic. The sacrifice needed to be large... ninety-nine, it said. Ninety-nine, and they only had seventy-two!

"High Priest Akunadin," one of his companions spoke up, approaching Akunadin who raised an eyebrow and looked at his fellow priest inquisitively. He spoke in a hushed whisper as he gave his idea. "Might I suggest we offer the soldiers as a sacrifice as well? There is a possibility that the charm placed on them will wear off, and if they ever tell what really happened to the citizens of Kuru Eruna, then the penalty for lying to the Pharaoh will be a high one. To ensure this secret is never discovered, I think it would be best if we got rid of the soldiers and used them as the remainder of our sacrifice."

Akunadin nodded his head in understanding, finding it smart for them to cover all of their bases in such a fashion. "How many men do we have?"

"Excluding those who have already perished along the way, we have exactly twenty-seven."

"Perfect."

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Bakura tossed and turned in his sleep, eyes clenching together tightly as he fruitlessly attempted to push away the images his subconscious was showing him. He whimpered, wrapping his arms around himself to protect him from the dream.

_Fire... All around him, hot, bright fire. Bakura was trapped, fire on every side of him, preventing his escape. In front of him stood the small, square window which he spent almost every hour of the day viewing the outside world from. The house across was his was aflame as well, and its inhabitants were running from it, screaming. _

_When it seemed as though they were safe, a new danger appeared: arrows. Hundreds and hundreds of arrows fell from the sky, skewering the villagers. Woman cried, men screamed like children. Soldiers appeared with swords, stabbing those whom the arrows missed. _

_Through the window, Bakura saw his mother running, leading several young children along with her. One of the children Bakura recognized in an instant as Téana. They ran past the window but somehow did not escape his line of vision. A guard was perusing them, unnoticed by all except for Bakura. _

_No!_

_Bakura cried out, screaming for his mother and Téana to run quickly, but no noise escaped his lips. He tried to move forward, but the flames grew higher around him, making it impossible for him to get to his family. _

_Gray-blue eyes shut tightly as the knife went through the first of the children. _

_No! This couldn't be happening! Not to his village... Not to his dear mother... Not to Téana. _

"Bakura! Bakura, wake up!"

The child awoke with a start, his light eyes wide and filled with fear. Once the sleepy haze cleared from his vision, he focused upon the form of his mother. She was standing over him looking anxious.

"Mother?" he called quietly. She reached out and touched the top of his head and he began to cry, bringing his small arms forward and clutching her skirts. "Mother I had a horrible dream! ... I thought you were going to die!"

A flash of dread crossed Rebekah's dark eyes. Gently she pried Bakura's arms from her skirt and helped him to a sitting position. He winced several times, the movement greatly disturbing the still-fresh injuries on his back.

"Hush now," she said softly, drying his tears with her thumb. "You must be very quiet."

Bakura sniffed. "W-why?" he asked. "Is... is Father still angry with me?"

Rebekah smiled sadly, her head moving from side to side in response to the question. "No, Bakura, your father is not angry with you. Your father," she stopped, gaze dropping to the floor.

She didn't quite know how to explain the circumstances to her son. Bakura, still a young child, would surely be unable to comprehend the truth. And even if he did understand... she couldn't bear to let her only child be tormented by the truth.

The woman brought her free hand to her cheek, still feeling the warmth of her husband's lips kissing her for the very last time. She knew she wouldn't be seeing him again. When he left to join the other men, she knew he would never return. He was giving his life in a vain attempt to guard the village; none of those men would survive the might of the Pharaoh's trained soldiers.

Taking Bakura's hand in both of her own, she gave the much smaller appendage a gentle squeeze – the action both reassurance for herself and for Bakura.

"Your father is very sorry for what he did earlier... He knows he hurt you very much, and so to make up for it, he has allowed me to take you outside."

The young boy's eyes widened, their icy depths shining with hope. "R-really, Mother?" he asked, disbelief evident in his small voice. "Really?"

Rebekah nodded her head. "Yes. We will go outside to play a game."

Bakura loved games, Rebekah knew. The boy radiated with happiness almost blasphemous, given the dire situation at hand.

"A game? What kind of game?" he wondered, unable to keep the excitement from his voice.

"It's... it's called 'Run and Hide'."

Bakura seemed interested, and so she continued with the lie, placing a hand around her son's shoulders and steering him out of the room. "All the villagers are playing. What we have to do is run away from all the men dressed as Pharaoh's soldiers. Run away and hide so they never find us. And if they don't find you, you win!"

She tried her best to make it sound like a game, so Bakura wouldn't be afraid, but the young boy seemed unsure as his mother led him to the back of their mud-brick home. A scream sounded from somewhere in the village – the first of many, Rebekah was sure.

"I... I don't know if I want to play the game, Mother," Bakura said quietly. "It sounds dangerous..."

A lump formed in Rebekah's throat, which she swallowed down in a determination not to cry in front of her only remaining family. "Nay, child... It's not dangerous at all. Some people scream when they get caught... They're... they're just having fun."

She felt sick, mocking the deaths of her villagers by calling this slaughter a game; but if it saved Bakura the torment, she had no choice but to keep up with this little story. She placed a finger over her son's chapped lips and he blinked twice, staring down at her dark finger, making his eyes cross.

"The key to the game is to be quiet, and to make sure no one sees you. Understand? You have to be very, very quiet so they never find you."

"That's all? That's all, and I win? What do I win, Mother? Is there a prize?"

Rebekah stopped as she reached the back entrance of the home. She kneeled down in front of Bakura and embraced him tenderly, knowing this may be one of the last times she had the chance to hold her baby in her arms.

"Mother?" Bakura whispered, bending slightly to the side to get a look at his parent's face. Rebekah lifted her head to meet his gaze and he noticed the tears welling in the corners of her dark eyes. "Mother, don't cry. I promise I'll be strong, and quiet. They'll never catch us. We'll win the game for sure!"

She was silent for several moments before she gave a slight nod. "Yes... of course we will." Leaning forward and placing a kiss on Bakura's forehead, Rebekah enveloped him in one last hug before standing back up to her full height and taking one of his hands. "Come now... We must move silently. I'll bring you to the perfect hiding place."

Taking a deep breath and praying to whatever deity would listen to the humble prayers of a desperate mother, Rebekah fled from the home, nearly dragging her son along with her through the deserted and burning dirt streets of Kuru Eruna.

They moved as noiselessly as possible, Bakura clumsily tripping over his own feet every once and a while as he tried to keep up with his mother's brisk strides. They reached the heart of the city in a short amount of time, and Rebekah led them to the pile of debris she knew was once the temple where she and her fellow villagers gathered to pay homage to the Gods and Goddesses.

Bakura whipped his head in all directions, gray-blue eyes filled with horror as he took in the destruction around him. He stumbled over a broken statue of Nut and for a moment lost grip of his mother's hand. A small cry escaped him as he reached out to her again, grasping a fistful of her skirt.

Rebekah stopped moving as they came to the center of the temple, where a set of stone stairs leading downwards was located. Checking in both directions, she began to move hesitantly down the stairs again, keeping one arm wrapped protectively around Bakura's shoulder.

As they ascended the steps, Bakura could pick up the sound of voices in the distance. Were there already people hiding down there? Or were the seekers waiting for them, waiting to catch them before they had an opportunity to hide away.

Rebekah froze continued to lead them down the stairs, and several torches came into view to light their paths as the darkness around them increased. Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, she steered her son away from the voices, and let go of him once they were concealed by a wall. She kneeled before Bakura again, staring at him pleadingly.

"Whatever you do, do not move from this spot. Understand?" she asked.

Bakura, who was now crying, shook his head. "Mother I don't like this game at all... I don't like it at all."

"Bakura, did you hear me?"

He shook his head, strands of moon-kissed tossing from side to side along with the motion. "No... I don't want to play anymore, Mother. I want to go home!"

"You cannot go home. You must stay here until the game is over."

Bakura continued to cry, and Rebekah was at a loss as to what to do to console him. Sighing inaudibly, she embraced him once more, closing her eyes and pressing her lips o his cheek. She kissed him three times.

"_I meri ek_."

By this point Bakura could no longer be fooled into believing this was merely a game. Really, he had known all along, he just didn't want to believe it. And although he wasn't exactly sure what really was happening, he knew it involved death. Death and destruction. And fire, like his dream showed him.

Bakura didn't know how long they remained that way, with he standing and holding his kneeling mother, crying against her as she cried against him. But a scream brought them both to the present. A scream most definitely male and belonging to a child.

The white-haired boy let go of his mother and ran to the ledge of the wall, heart jumping up into his throat as he pressed himself against the ledge and peered around to get a look at what was going on. A gasped escaped his parted lips as he saw a young boy with hair the color of sand being dragged forward by two men dressed in the royal garb of the Pharaoh's soldiers. He was thrashing about in their arms in a vain attempt to break free, screaming for help.

"Let me go!" Jouno sobbed. "Mother! Father! Help me!"

One of the soldiers laughed as both men stopped walking.

"Fear not, little boy. You will join your worthless parents shortly."

Bakura held back a scream as they snapped Jouno's neck and tossed his body into a large pot he hadn't noticed before. The scent of burning flesh wafted through the air, reaching his nostrils soon enough, and he fought the urge to retch. He moved back around the wall, sinking down to the floor into a miserable heap.

The men laughed and walked away.

Rebekah crawled over to Bakura, taking one of his hands. "I didn't know they would be down here as well... I will have to find another place for us to hide. You will stay here. Understand?"

Bakura nodded his head, hardly even registering the moment she hugged and kissed him for the last time.

More shrieks penetrated the hot air of the underground temple, this time shrill and feminine. Bakura didn't want to look, but he found himself peering out from behind his hiding spot regardless of the fear and sickness churning inside. A pack of women and children were led into the room by men dressed in rich robes of black linen and gold-plated headdresses that suggested they were of the Royal Court.

Bakura gripped the stone hedge tightly as he noticed his mother among the group of women. Tears stung his eyes, flowing uncontrollably down his cheeks, and his mouth opened and closed several times like a suffocating fish out of water.

He couldn't watch as they killed her and dumped her into the same pot they carelessly tossed their other victims. A sob escaped him, but he caught it with his hand to muffle the noise.

"What do you have here, little girl? A doll! Do you think it will protect you?"

A squeal of pain as an arm was twisted out of place and a wooden carving dropped to the wet stone floor.

Gray-blue eyes snapped open in recognition. He knew that cry... it plagued his dreams earlier in the night.

Téana.

She was on the ground, her now-lifeless body lying next to the carving Bakura recalled giving her only one day prior. Diaboundo... The bottom snake-half of the body had been broken off, and now laid several inches away from the man's sculpted torso.

'_She kept it with her... and I couldn't protect her.'_

'_Diaboundo... Téana... Mother...'_

'_My friend... My Family...'_

Bakura didn't know what compelled him to do so, but he moved out from the barrier that concealed and protected him from harm. He moved forward slowly, closer to the soldiers and members of the Court, and closer to the death that seemed imminent to all citizens of Kuru Eruna.

"What's this?" one of the soldiers sneered. "One escaped?"

"I thought we had all ninety-nine sacrifices. That girl was the last of the village. Where did this one come from, I wonder?" a black-robed man asked.

"Does it matter? Throw him in the pot! The more sacrifices, the more pleased the Pharaoh will be!"

_Sacrifices?_

The _Pharaoh..._? The Pharaoh did this? Ordered the people of Kuru Eruna to be killed?

Bakura stopped as he stood where Téana's body had been. He kneeled down on the floor and picked up the pieces of Diaboundo, cradling them to his chest as Téana had done when she received the carving as a gift. The tears stopped dripping, and he sat deathly still, eyes unblinking and emotionless.

"What is wrong with this child? Why does he not cry and scream like the others?"

"Look at his hair! So white – like death!"

Bakura didn't move a muscle, only stared blankly at the men who had so thoughtlessly murdered his village. A deep hate coursed through his veins, and he felt the desire to see each and every one of them dead, as he had wished to see his father dead after the whipping occurred.

Suddenly a voice spoke to him, though where it came from was a mystery.

_**Do you seek revenge, my Child?**_

Apparently he was the only hearer of the words, for none of the other men in the room even raised a brow at the disembodied voice.

Ice-colored eyes blinked. _'...Revenge?'_

_**These men have committed an injustice... Killed your loved ones and villagers. You long for their deaths. Do you wish for me to destroy them for you?**_

'_Can you do that?'_

The deep voice chuckled, and the rumbling noise brought comfort to the distraught young boy. **_My Child, I am the Darkness... I can do anything._**

'_Who are you?'_ he wondered, unable to put a face to the speaker. He looked down to the figurine in his arms and the possibility of the carving being the source of the voice fleetingly crossed his mind. _'...D-Diaboundo?'_

Bakura thought about it for a moment, his eyes darting over to the guards who were slowly advancing towards him, smirking. An order had been given by one of the black-robed men to throw the child into the pot with the others: "Even if the Items are complete, there's always room for one hundred!"

A hearty chuckle echoed through his mind. **_Diaboundo? Is that what you wish for, for your Diaboundo to protect you? I can grant you your wish, child. I can do anything you ask me to..._**

The white-haired boy took a retreating step backwards as the soldiers came closer. _'Kill them... Kill them for hurting my family.'_ Bakura looked down at the statuette in his hands, smiling at it with paternal affection._ 'Diaboundo... protect me from them... Don't let them live.'_

Again that chuckle, and a flash of bright light. The soldiers and black-robed men all gasped, stopping their pursuit as around the boy appeared a creature several times larger than that of a grown man. It had the head and torso of a man, but the lower body of a serpent. Large wings sprouted from its back, and the snake coiled around the child protectively, opening its jaws and hissing venomously at all those who had drawn too near.

"W-what is that thing?"

"I've never seen a creature like that in my life!"

"It is a demon!"

"Grab the Items and run!" one of the black-robed men screeched.

There was a flash of light – an attack from Diaboundo, and only few were able to escape with their lives and the 'Items'.

Bakura was unconscious before he hit the floor.

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**Translations**:  
I finally found an English to Egyptian translator online, so I was able to insert Egyptian words now instead of using Arabic. Hopefully, this source gave me the the correct terms!

_Neb: _Ancient Egyptian for "Lord" or "Master".

_I meri ek: _By just looking up the words I, Love, and You, I created this sentance. (_I_ I, _meri_ love, _ek_ you; masculine singular.) I can't be certain it's accurate, but I tried my best, and hopefully I came close.

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_A/N: All right. So, the massacre is finally over. It's a bit different than the one that took place in the manga and anime - though, they didn't really show more than two seconds of it in both, so we never know.. perhaps something like this DID actually happen. Anyways, I hope it was okay. The chapter was a little difficult for me to write, since I'm not used to writing massacres or anything like that. Thanks for reading! Next chapter... Malik should arrive. I can't tell you when I'll have it out, 'cause with Hurricane Ernesto coming this week, there's the chance we might lose power for a few days. But I'll try to at least write the chapter out. _

_...Anyways, please review! _


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